


Little Secrets: Mini Smut Drabbles

by SiderealV



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, fem dom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiderealV/pseuds/SiderealV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to dump tiny, naughty drabbles of only a couple hundred words. Pairing names are chapter titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Ratchet/Drift] Overtime

It was difficult to ignore drift under the best of circumstances. He couldn't help that it was four cycles past shift; things needed to be done. He had a medbay to run. Private time could come later. 

Unfortunately , Drift had other ideas. With the swordsmech standing in front of his desk, panel open and lubricant streaming down his inner thighs, it was impossible to keep his processor on his work. The medic's faceplates heated as he stoically kept his eyes on his datapads, determined to finish. He could pretend he didn't notice the tilt of the other's gorgeous hips, the inviting heat between them, or the pulse of the other's EM field assaulting him unbridled want. 

"Later, Drift."

The younger mech leaned forward then, sliding the datapad out of the way, catching and holding Ratchet's gaze as he looked up to protest. His spark hitched, optics widening and faceplates mere inches apart.

"No. _Now._ "


	2. [Cyclonus/Tailgate] Absolution

The resonance was perfect. Perhaps it was only their shared sparktype, or maybe a remnant of his brush with death, but Tailgate preferred to believe it was love. He squeezed his digits around twitching claws when Cyclonus heaved another shuddered ventilation, tipping his helm to meet the reverent nuzzle against his neck cables.

There was a softness to the flier during these quiet moments that Tailgate cherished above all things. All tension left the warrior's frame, all pretense of stoicism or propriety was forgotten. He was beautiful in the way he laid his spark bare; always, the minibot reached out without hesitation to claim it, even if it hurt. Even if he felt as if the atrocities and the violence bleeding into his soul would tear him apart, he sought the other time and time again, wanting. Accepting.

"Tailgate..."

He reached up to stroke the leading edge of his lover's helm at the fragile word. Raw yearning and devotion poured through the bond as surely as the enormity of his wrongs. Cyclonus curled over him--around him--as they lay entangled on the berth, bathed in sparklight. It was worth it.


	3. [Nautica/Nightbeat] Thorough Investigation

"A-auuh!" Nightbeat’s voice rose in fevered need as he was filled. His servos grasped at the femme’s arms, jaw slack and visor dimmed as her thick spike surged into him and lit every internal node along the way. 

Nautica gave a breathy laugh at the beautiful reaction; Nightbeat was so wonderfully sensitive, so reactive and vocal at her touch. Very cute. She rolled her hips in small, shallow thrusts, smiling down at the gold and blue mech. “How is that?”

Each inward push tore soft needy sounds from Nightbeat’s vocalizer. His faceplates were flushed as servos shakily stroked up the her arms and down again, subtly shifting his hips and spreading himself wider for her. His own spike lay forgotten and drooling against his belly, the pleasure jolting up from his valve keeping it pressurized despite the neglect. "Don’t… Don’t tease me. Mmh!" His body lurched upward as the femme’s spike plunged in hard and deep and so satisfying.

"Tease? I’d never. I’m afraid you’ve reached entirely the wrong conclusion." Nautica leaned in, her full lips capturing Nightbeat’s parted and panting ones. She took mercy, feeding her spike into the mech’s plush, slick valve in an increasingly powerful rhythm. The submersible moaned into his mouth as calipers cycled down and milked her of transfluid, nowhere near overload but already leaking steadily. She pulled back with a gasp, the mech’s tongue trailing from the impassioned kiss as they parted. "Primus, you are beautiful," she breathed reverently, spiking him in earnest now.

Her assessment was hardly accurate, but Nightbeat was too far gone to protest. He wrapped his arms up around the others chassis and tangled his digits in the sensitive blades of her propellers, legs pressing to the femme’s sides as she pumped his valve full. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t _speak_ … not unless his breathless mewls could be counted. Could they? As the femme bore down on him, reaching between them to palm his throbbing spike, he found that—for once—he honestly could not be bothered to investigate the idea further.


End file.
